


Do you need a hand-written invitation?

by Sermocinare



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 13:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4748120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sermocinare/pseuds/Sermocinare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something about Roman Reigns that drives Seth crazy. First it's his handwriting, then it's other things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do you need a hand-written invitation?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeuteNachtIstMeinTag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeuteNachtIstMeinTag/gifts).



Seth gives a growl and throws his pen down on the table. He really, really doesn't get paid enough for this. Not only does he have to wade through an endless ocean of pitifully wrong answers, no, he also has do deal with people's handwriting. 

After having done this for about a year now, he thought he had gotten pretty good at deciphering whatever the first-years threw at him, but this guy has proven that he has been dead wrong about that. 

“Fuck.”

Seth pushes against his desk, rolling his chair backwards until it smacks into the wall behind him. He needs a coffee. Or maybe he needs to go find this guy and smack him over the head for making Seth's day miserable. 

Roman Reigns. He had needed five minutes before he'd figured that one out. 

Seth gets up and stretches with a groan, then heads out of his tiny office and down the hallway. He had thought about simply going to get a coffee from the machine in the lobby, but fuck that. He needs an actual coffee. And a pastry. Caffeine and sugar, a TA's best friends. Maybe after that he'll be ready to face that chicken scratch again.

–

In the end, Seth doesn't have the mental capacity or willpower to go at it again. Instead, he'd asked Professor Helmsley to point Reigns out to him during their next class so that he can track the guy down later. Turns out, he won't have much trouble with that, because Roman Reigns stands out from the majority of students. Literally. Seth isn't the smallest guy around, but Reigns has at least two inches on him, and a build that makes Seth wonder how the guy even fits through the standard dorm room doors. He also finds out that Reigns in on a football scholarship. Go figure. What he's doing in a class on poetry is anybody's guess. 

Seth manages to catch Reigns between classes: “Got a minute? We need to talk about your test.”

Reigns furrows his brow, looking slightly worried, and nods, then follows Seth down the hallways to the TA's office.

Seth lets himself fall down into his chair, which gives the usual creak in protest, then pulls out Reigns' test and throws it on the desk with a flick of his wrist: “I can't grade this.”

“Why?” Confusion joins the worry on Reigns' face.

“Because I can't read it. Well, okay, I can, but it's taken me almost an hour for one lousy page, and that's just...” here, Seth pauses, looking for the right words before settling on: “It's bullshit. I can't spend that much time on one person's test. I got other things to do, you know.”

Reigns sits down on the only other chair in the room, a rickety thing that usually serves as a depository for books Seth has borrowed from the library and needs to take back before he has to pay a fine. The chair creaks loudly enough for Seth to fear its imminent death. 

“If you don't grade the test, I'll fail. You can't do that!”

Truth to be told, Seth isn't sure he can do that, simply fail someone because he can't read what they wrote. He wants to, though. 

“Why do you care? It's only a few points off your overall grade. And aren't you here to play football, anyway?”

Reigns sets his jaw, and there's something just a little bit intimidating about that: “Just because I'm on an athletic scholarship doesn't mean I'm only here to play football. I'm here to study and get a degree. So yeah, every point matters.”

Seth raises an eyebrow. Of course the athletic scholarship people get degrees. But most of them choose something easy. Not English Lit. Anything but English Lit. And really, Seth can't see Reigns, with his brawn that makes Seth just slightly jealous, sitting in the library poring over some 18th century manuscript. 

Sighing, Reigns lets his head drop for a moment, shaking it before looking back at Seth, everything confrontational gone from his expression, replaced with an almost vulnerable sincerity: “This means a lot to me, okay?”

And fuck it, something in that look, those deep eyes, tugs at Seth's soul. He knows about the rumors that he doesn't actually have one, but screw those people. 

“All right,” he says, nodding at Reigns, “I'll work some overtime and grade the thing.” A half-smile tugs at his lips: “It's not bad, so I guess it's worth it. But you owe me.”

Technically, Reigns owes him shit because the whole letting him fail thing was probably an empty threat anyway, but for one, Seth likes it when people owe him, and he also wants to see more of Reigns, outside of classes if possible. 

Reigns nods: “Yeah. Thank you.” Then, he grins, and it's the most dazzling grin Seth has ever seen: “Any ideas as to what I owe you?”

“Not yet,” Seth replies with a shrug, then mirrors the other man's grin: “I'll let you know.”

Reigns nods, then taps the table with his knuckles: “All right. I've got to go. I need to get in some study time before training.”

“See you around,” Seth says. When the door closes behind Reigns, Seth tips back in his chair until it creaks, folding his hands behind his head and putting his feet up on the corner of his desk. Now all he has to do is figure out what repayment he wants for putting in all of this extra effort. And, well, actually put in the extra effort. Somehow, the second one seems easier than the first.

–

It's been three weeks, and Seth still hasn't thought of anything he would like as a repayment for what turned out to be two and a half hours of trying to decipher Reigns' sad excuse for handwriting. Not because he lacks imagination, mind you. In fact, his imagination has conjured up a few scenarios that are definitely not in the realm of the possible, and even less the ethical. But it's hardly Seth's fault that Reigns is hot. And the usual things like coffee and a movie are simply boring. Seth has always prided himself being a game changer.

And then it hits him, the perfect mix of all worlds, something that will let him have a good time, personal profit and a chance to take another nice long look at Reigns. 

So the next day, he stops Reigns in the hallway after the lecture: “Hey, Reigns. Remember that favor you owe me?”

Reigns nods.

“I've decided you're going to pay me back by helping me with my workout. What with you being on the road to being a professional athlete, I'm sure you know some things I don't. So, Tuesday evening, 7 pm sharp at the gym?”

Reigns gives Seth a once-over, then nods: “Sure. See you then.”

With that, Reigns turns around and walks away, leaving Seth standing there with a huge grin spreading across his face. This is going to be fun.

–

Seth was right, this is fun. Or at least it is for the first half hour. Working out with someone else is nice for a change, and it doesn't hurt that Reigns is a very motivating sight. Reigns corrects Seth's stance a few times and shows him some body weight exercises Seth didn't know. They're both laughing and trading a bit of banter. 

But after about half an hour, the fun fades into oh-hey-this-is-work. Seth no longer has the breath for jokes, and his muscles start whispering, then screaming at him about what the fuck he thinks he's doing to them. Well, they need to shut up, because Reigns isn't done with him yet, and Seth would rather die than admit that he is actually done. Done-done. 

In the end, both of them end up sitting on a bench at the nearest wall, panting and sweating. Seth has a nagging suspicion that me might not be able to move much without mentally going “ow” tomorrow. 

“Good workout,” Reigns says, grinning and giving Seth a light slap on the shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Seth replies, his voice a bit rough. 

Reigns' grin gets a teasing edge: “A bit more than you're used to though?”

Seth takes a sip from his water bottle and smirks: “A bit. I'm just an amateur.”

Reigns gives Seth another once-over, and really, Seth can't say that he has any problems with that. On the contrary. 

“A dedicated amateur, by the looks of it. Held your own pretty well.”

“Well, I got to have something to counterbalance all the time spent sitting at a desk studying. Or,” Seth grins and gives Reigns' shoulder a little nudge with his own, “trying to decipher someone's nasty handwriting.”

Reigns laughs, and like everything about him, his laugh is huge, too, kind of like a benign thunder. Then, he looks at Seth: “How about Friday, then? For our next session?”

While Seth had been thinking of this payback more along the lines of Reigns showing him some stuff and then leaving Seth at it alone, he has no problems with Reigns' suggestion: “Sure. Same time, same place.”

Reigns gets up and holds out his hand, and Seth gives him a low five. 

“See you Friday, Seth,” Reigns says, giving a little wave before vanishing into the locker rooms.

Seth stays put for a while longer, waiting until he's caught most of his breath back before hitting the showers himself. Yeah, this is looking good.

–

In fact, Seth runs into Reigns before Friday. 

He's in the library, checking if maybe one of the books he needs for his masters thesis are finally back and yes, this time he's in luck. Grabbing the book off the shelf, Seth heads for the desks that are grouped at the center of the library, and there is Reigns, nose in a book, his brow furrowed in concentration. He's making notes, and for a moment Seth wonders what the hell Reigns' notes look like, if even his normal handwriting is that shitty. Well, he's going to find out.

Walking up behind Reigns, Seth peeks over the other man's shoulder before sliding behind the desk next to him. 

“Wow. And I thought your handwriting was bad on that test. How can you even read that yourself?”

Reigns blinks, his focus broken by Seth's words. Then he grins: “Fifty percent being used to it, fifty percent educated guesswork.”

Seth shakes his head, chuckling: “You're really something special.”

“Thanks.”

“Studying for the next test?”

“Yes. But not your course.”

Seth nods: “I see. Well, if you need any help... as long as it's not for the course I'm TA'ing in, I'm allowed to help you out.”

“Too bad,” Reigns says with a teasing grin, “I thought I might be able to play favorites and get the questions to the next one.”

“I'd say that depends on how you play your cards,” Seth replies with a leer, which gets him a barley suppressed laugh from Reigns. 

“SILENCE IN THE LIBRARY”

Both Reigns and him flinch, and Seth twists in his chair to see Mr. Lesner, the librarian, standing right behind them. And how the fuck did that bulldozer in human guise manage to sneak up on them?

“Sorry,” Reigns says with an apologetic grin.

Lesner nods, then fixates Seth with his glare: “You have books due tomorrow.”

He does? Seth can't remember. Still, he nods his head: “They'll be on time.”

With another look at Seth that clearly spells out “they better be or else”, Lesner plods back behind the librarian's desk.

“That is the scariest librarian I've ever seen in my life,” Reigns mutters through the corner of his mouth. “Where did they get him? Frankenstein's laboratory?”

“I heard he got his degree here. Library science and German.” There are a lot of rumors about the librarian, this being one of the few that might actually hold some truth to them. Well, this one and the one about how Lesner once bodily threw out a student who dared to drop attitude despite having unpaid overdraft fees.

They spend the rest of their time in the library in silence, since they don't want to attract Lesner's attention again. As if by unspoken agreement, when one of them packs up their things, the other follows suit, and they leave the library together.

As soon as they're outside and therefore permitted to speak again, Reigns turns towards Seth: “So, you want to join me for a beer?”

“Sure.”

Or rather, hell yes, but it's important to play it cool, especially now that Seth is hit by the implications of that inner “hell yes”. He likes being around Reigns. They guy is actually nice, unlike some of the other football players. He has brains, too, once again unlike many of his peers. Also, funny. And good looking. In short, Seth has if not quite fallen, than at least stumbled for Roman. And has apparently switched from “Reigns” to “Roman” in his thoughts, too. 

This is going to be interesting. 

–

They meet at 3H, a popular student hangout. No one has any idea what the name stands for, but the popular theory is “hotties, hickeys and hangovers”. The first one is guaranteed, seeing who Seth is drinking with. Number three might also happen. He doesn't have any classes tomorrow. Number two... well. 

Roman is good company, and can definitely match Seth in alcohol capacity. They drink beer at a leisurely pace, talking about this and that. Occasionally, one of Roman's or Seth's friends will stop by, but Seth is pretty thankful that they all move on sooner rather than later. He wants Roman to himself. Roman doesn't seem to mind, seeing how he doesn't invite anyone to sit down, either.

At some point, somewhere along the first step into buzzed territory, Roman decides that Seth is not only a complete nerd because of his choice of subject for his master's, but also a hipster. 

“I mean, look at you,” Roman says, grinning that huge grin of his and gesturing at Seth, “with your skinny jeans, boots, beard and man bun. Total hipster.”

“Yeah well you look like you escaped a metal concert,” Seth retorts, and sticks out his tongue for good measure.

Roman laughs and shakes his head: “I wasn't criticizing, man.”

When they finally call it a night, they're both nicely but not overly drunk. They walk back to campus leaning on each other, with Roman's arm around Seth's shoulders and Seth holding on to Roman's waist. They could probably walk well enough on their own, but this is more fun, especially since they've decided about half an hour ago that they're totally best friends now. 

They only disentangle when they've reached the dorm Seth resides in.

“We should do that again,” Roman grins, his eyes slightly unfocused from the buzz. 

“Yeah, absolutely,” Seth agrees. He can totally see them doing this more often. Like, all the time. 

Instead of waving and taking off, Roman stands there, swaying slightly from one foot to the other. And just as Seth starts to wonder if the other has maybe forgotten which dorm he lives in, Roman leans in and kisses him.

For two or three seconds, Seth can't do anything because he's too stunned. When he finally regains his drunken thoughts, though, he kisses back fiercely, tangling his fingers in Roman's hair. And fuck, Roman is giving as good as he's getting, one hand on the back of Seth's neck, and it's only when they both have to come up for air that the kiss is broken. 

Roman is panting and grinning like a fool, which is just so fucking cute that Seth has to kiss him again. And again. 

Finally, Roman takes a step back, still slightly breathless: “See you tomorrow, Seth.”

Then, he turns around and walks off, leaving Seth calling out a croaky “yeah” and needing a moment to collect himself. And stare at Roman's retreating ass.

“Well, fuck me,” Seth mutters to himself before making his way to his room. “That guy can kiss.”

–

Seth doesn't have a problem with drunk kissing. He's done enough of it, after all. He usually doesn't have a problem with meeting the person he was drunk-kissing, or drunk-fucking for that matter, when they're both sober again. After all, they were both drunk.

No, the problem lies in the fact that he would actually like to sober-kiss Roman but is pretty certain the feeling won't be reciprocated. Yes, they've come to be buddies, but believe it or not Seth has drunk-kissed a couple of his buddies only to find out that it was a one-time offer followed by “dude we were so smashed last night let's never talk about it again”. 

In short, Seth is having a rare feeling of awkwardness when he enters the gym for his training session with Roman. 

“Hey.”

From the half-pained smile on Roman's face and his stance Seth can tell he's not the only one with that feeling. 

They do their warm-ups in silence, and the longer that silence lasts, the more the awkwardness grows, until it has reached a size where apparently, Roman can't take it any longer and turns towards Seth, running a hand through that glorious hair of his.

“We've got to talk. About what happened after the bar.”

Seth nods and gives an equally pained grin: “Yeah, I guess we should.”

Roman takes a deep breath and crosses his arms in front of his chest: “Listen. I know we were both drunk...”

Seth steels himself for what is surely to come.

“...but the thing is, I really wouldn't mind doing that again when we're sober.” Roman lets the air escape from his lungs in a short huff. “Scratch that, I would really like it if we did that again.”

Seth blinks. Did he hear that right? Judging by how vulnerable Roman looks right now, yes, he did. And Seth can't help it, he's grinning from ear to ear when he replies: “Hell yes. We should absolutely do that again.”

And before Roman can say anything, Seth steps in and pulls him into a kiss and holy fuck, that wasn't the alcohol, Roman really is an amazing kisser, even more so when he's sober. 

Seth is actually breathless when they finally pull apart, and this time it's Roman who is grinning like a dork. At least for a few seconds, until he gets a mischievous glint in his eyes and slaps Seth's shoulder: “You better get your breath back quickly, Seth. Workout's not canceled.”

“You're merciless, aren't you,” Seth says, shaking his head.

“You have no idea.”

–

After about a week, Seth has to admit that yes, this is the best relationship he's been in so far. Roman and him click like pieces of a puzzle. They talk a lot, about everything from music – they share a mutual dislike for what the other one listens to – and sports to books, which is the complete opposite of music, with Roman liking the same stuff he likes. Yes, even the trashy sword and sorcery shit that is Seth's guilty pleasure. 

They go for drinks, they work out, and they can't keep their hands off each other. Seth isn't quite sure that making out with one of the people whose tests he might be grading is ethical or legal, but he decides that he doesn't give a shit. There's only one left anyway, and he won't play favorites because he knows Roman would kill him if he did. The man has an honor code, and that dictates that he gets to where he wants to be on his own merit.

It's inevitable that they land in bed sooner rather than later. Or rather, Seth lands on his bed, and Roman lands on top of him, having pushed him down on it. At some point, Seth muses, they will have to try this slow and sweet thing, but right now both of them are fine with fast and furious. 

Having hastily opened Seth's fly, Roman is now hooking his fingers underneath the waistband of Seth's jeans, tugs... and gives a frustrated growl. 

“Why the fuck do you have to wear these tight pants?”

Seth flashes Roman a toothy grin: “I thought you liked my tight pants.”

“Yeah, when you're walking in front of me, but right now I fucking hate them,” Roman huffs, still tugging.

“Need any help down there, darling?” Seth's grin gets even wider.

“Oh, fuck you, Seth.”

“That's the plan.”

And then Seth yelps, because he's almost falling off the bed from the tug Roman is giving his pants, but hey, mission accomplished, the pants are gone. Laughing, he crawls up the bed again. Seconds later, Roman's pants have joined Seth's in the corner of the room, and Seth has his fingers tangled into that black mane while Roman is kissing at nipping at his chest and stomach. 

Any doubts Seth may have had about Roman having been with guys before is burned away when, after what seemed like an eternity but probably was more like 10 minutes of frenzied kissing and groping, Roman asks if he has any lube around and holy fuck, that man is good with his hands. 

Seth almost comes on Roman's fingers twice, but manages to hold back until it's Roman's cock inside him. 

About half an hour later, they're at it again, with Seth proving that he gives as good as he gets. 

The third time, Seth's neighbor bangs on the wall and yells for them to keep it down for fuck's sake, but Seth just laughs, and Roman does his best to be even louder. 

After that, Seth is lying on his back, his upper body flopped half on top of Roman, head resting on the other man's chest: “I am never getting up again.”

Roman's fingers are ghosting over Seth's belly, following the slight dips and rises of his abs and circling around his belly button: “Well you don't have to. Not for my sake anyway.” Then, Roman chuckles, the sound reverberating through Seth's body: “Except for maybe one bit of you.”

“Yeah well even that one agrees with the rest of me at the moment.”

“You sure?” 

Roman's hand moves further down, and Seth rolls his eyes, then turns his head, lips twitching into a wicked smile: “Not one hundred percent, no.”

Roman wraps his other arm around Seth and pulls him up until he can nip at Seth's lips: “Told you, you have no idea just how merciless I can be...”


End file.
